Knots
by bat-hawk
Summary: Eames has a problem with shaking off certain forges after a job. He may have found a permanent solution. T just to be safe, I think this is actually pretty innocent.


Title: Knots  
>Wordcount: 3867<br>Warnings: Mild mental illness (Also, I had no internet access while writing most of the part dealing with the illness, so I am terribly sorry if I have grossly misrepresented), non-sexual bondage  
>CharactersPairings: Pre- Arthur/Eames  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: Eames has a nagging problem with shaking off certain forges after a job. He may have found a permanent solution.  
>AN: For **heavenly_rain** on lj as her terribly late **dream_holiday **gift, and also for this kink meme prompt (inception-kink. livejournal. com/19632. html? thread=46778288#t46778288), because I fail at ideas, apparently.

* * *

><p>Eames had seen Arthur work with knots more times than he could count. Knots to tie bags to the roof of a car, knots in ropes to rappel down buildings, and most importantly, knots to hold people in place.<p>

The point was, Arthur knew knots. Whenever anyone needed tying done, they asked Arthur. He was obviously the person Eames should talk to about his... problem.

The problem with this solution to _the_ problem was that Arthur was Eames' friend. Perhaps Eames' best friend. Which shouldn't have been a problem, or at least it should have been less of a problem than the alternative, that is, asking a non-friend, but it was. Because Eames' original problem had a bit of a peculiar solution.

What Eames needed was to be tied down. He needed to be completely immobilized so he could think his way out of his latest forge, which had been quite a bit more consuming than he had anticipated. He had managed to be just as perfect as you wanted a forge to be, but it had come at a price, as all of Eames' best work did. Now he was spinning circles in his own head, the space not big enough for the two people trying to live there at once.

Normally, Eames would drop off the grid for a month or maybe two and sort himself out on his own, with bottles and bottles of medication and dozens of visits to his old therapist, but it was a terrible process, and terribly long, and he had promised Arthur to work another job with him in two weeks. He hadn't meant to get this forge so perfect. It didn't even need to be perfect, which was the most annoying part of all. Any forger in the business could've whipped up something sufficient for the job. And now Eames was stuck in a most awkward position. Either ask Arthur to tie him up tight and leave him alone for a while, or try to think up an excuse to duck out on the job that Arthur would see through anyways.

Eames respected Arthur enough by now that a flimsy excuse was not even an option anymore. He had a terrible life.

Eames and Arthur were staying in the same hotel in Chicago, which was the site of their next job. Neither of them had seen a point in going home to be alone for a week and a half when they could just go to Chicago early with each other.

It was about two o-clock in the afternoon when Eames managed to work himself into enough of his own head to walk next door and knock on Arthur's door.

Arthur answered the door in a black-on-black paisley hoodie, because he was occasionally adorable when he wasn't working. This was not as great a source of joy as it usually was.

"Hey, Eames, what's up?"

"I, um, I have a- a favor to ask of you, actually," Eames fidgeted nervously in the doorway.

"Sure. You want to come in?" Arthur moved back and held the door open.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be good." Eames stepped inside and then fidgeted nervously in front of the bed, which Arthur had sat down on.

"Well, what was it you wanted to ask?" Arthur asked after a few minutes had passed in silence.

"Uh, well, my last forgery, ah, what did you think of it?"

"It was pretty damn good, to be perfectly honest with you. I hate to do that, though. Gives you a big head, you know."Arthur smirked a bit, and Eames tried to join in, but his attempt seemed to be a resounding failure, if Arthur's response was anything to go by.

"What's wrong, Eames?" Arthur looked quite concerned.

"It's not- it's not anything major, Arthur, it's just... well, let me try it this way. So, forging. When I forge someone, I sort of... become them, yeah?"

"Yeah," Arthur just looked puzzled, now.

"So, it's not just my appearance that changes, right? It's my mannerisms and my speech patterns and everything as well."

"Right. You wouldn't fool very many people otherwise."

"Right. And when I really hit a forge spot on, I kind of, well, everything about me changes into whoever I'm forging."

"Ok. And then you have a problem after that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Ok."

Eames chewed on his lip, staring at the floor and trying to think of a way to explain himself to Arthur without sounding like a nut-job.

"Eames," Arthur broke into Eames' reverie, "sit," Arthur patted the bed next to him. "I'm not going to freak out, or run away, or think you're crazy or disgusting, or whatever it is you're thinking right now," Arthur continued as Eames sat down next to him. "So you need some help getting back to normal after a job. You're not the only one. Far from it, in fact."

Arthur paused, and Eames nodded, though he didn't look up from his lap, where his gaze was now fixed.

"Now, tell me what's wrong and how I can help you."

Eames took a deep breath, and began. "Alright. So, when I was younger, I had multiple personality disorder." Eames didn't dare look at Arthur to see his reaction. "I got over it with some therapy and some medication, and most of the time, it doesn't affect me at all anymore." Eames was so very glad that Arthur was staying silent right now. "It's just when I really get a forge, sometimes it sort of... sticks. It's not every time that it happens, it's just the ones that I really, uh, the ones I can identify with the best, I guess, I just get why they do things and who they are, really, and they get in my head and they won't leave once they're there. Normally, I can just go home for a while and clear out my head myself, but it takes a long time, and I don't want to just bail on you, so..." Eames trailed off, heart in his throat while he waited for Arthur to say something.

"Alright. So what do you want me to do?"

Eames glanced over at Arthur, who really didn't look horrified that he had been friends with an insane person for the last few years. Eames nodded to himself before continuing.

"Ok. So. Ineedyoutotiemeup," he spat out in an unintelligible rush.

"Alright," Arthur nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "I can do that. How do you want to be tied up? And do you just want to be left alone afterwards?"

"Yes," Eames said, delighted that he didn't have to repeat himself. "I mean, yes to the being left alone part. I don't want- er, I don't need you to, to fuck me or anything."

Arthur coughed next to him, and Eames determinedly did not look at him, because, _oh my god_, what had he just said?

"Ok. Do you have a preference for position or knot type or where you want this to happen?" Arthur's voice, thank God, was just as even as it always was when faced with a problem to solve.

"Um, no, not really," Eames squirmed in his seat. "I mean, the bed is probably convenient, but whatever you want."

"Ok. Are there any physical limitations I should know about? I already know about your knee and your pinky, of course, but is there anything else?"

"No, that's everything permanent," Eames touched his pinky self-consciously.

"Alright. How long do you want to be tied?"

"Um. I don't- a few hours, I guess."

"How does three sound for now? I would rather keep it shorter than longer on a first try. We can always do some more later if we need to."

"That sounds great."

"And when do you want to do this?"

"Could we maybe do it right now? If you have the time?"

"Unfortunately, I am not the type of person who carries bondage rope with him wherever he goes, so we can't right this instant, but we could go buy some rope now, if you want to, and begin when we get back."

"Alright. That sounds great."

"Ok. Let me figure out where the closest place to buy rope is, and we'll be off. Unless you want to stay here, of course." Arthur leaned over to pull his laptop out of it's bag.

"Um, no, I think, I think I'll go with you. If that's ok."

"That's perfectly fine." Arthur typed for a few minutes before putting away his laptop and picking up his wallet.

"You ready to go, Eames?"

"Yeah, I'm good."

"After you, then," Arthur crossed the room and held open the door for Eames. Eames walked out and waited for Arthur to lead the way. Arthur boarded a conveniently timed bus and then got off and led Eames to a hardware store. Arthur walked directly to the rope isle, Eames trailing behind him, a little confused.

"Not what you were expecting?" Arthur asked with a smile when he looked up from the rope to see Eames' face.

"No, not really."

"We could go to a fetish store and buy you pretty rope if you want some, but I got the impression this was less of a fetish and more of a psychological thing. If you do want the pretty rope, though, I will buy it for you."

"Oh no, this is fine. I just- any rope is good."

"You sure?" Arthur smirked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Eames stared at the rope, wishing it was knotted around him already.

"Alright. Now, how tightly to you want to be tied?"

"I want to be completely immobilized," Eames answered immediately.

"Ok," Arthur went back to the rope and walked away with several coils of varying lengths and thicknesses.

They were out in the parking lot again before Eames realized that Arthur had paid for all of it.

"Oh, I should've paid for that."

"It's fine, Eames, I don't mind at all."

"But you should've let me pay for it anyways," Eames frowned and stared down at the ground.

"To tell you the truth, Eames, I've wanted some bondage rope of my own for a while now, I just haven't had the initiative to go out and buy any."

Eames blinked at the pavement. "Really?"

"Yeah... It is a bit of a fetish for me. I'm not going to let that affect you, don't worry. But I do like the rope."

Eames said nothing back to that, just stared at the sidewalk while they waited for another bus to take them back to the hotel.

"Is that going to be a problem?" Arthur asked after a few minutes.

"No. As long as- well, no."

"Ok."

The rest of the trip back to the hotel was spent in silence.

When they reached their floor, Arthur asked, "do you want to be in your room or mine?"

"Uh, in- in yours, if that's ok."

"That's fine." Arthur unlocked his door and held it open for Eames, locking the extra locks behind him. "And you said you didn't have a particular position in mind?"

"Whatever you want, as long as I can't move."

"Alright," Arthur nodded. "Get up on the bed, then, and lie down whatever way you'd like."

"Ok," Eames crawled onto the bed and flopped down on his stomach.

"Good," Eames felt the bed dip as Arthur got on next to him. "I'm going to start now."

"Go ahead," Eames mumbled.

Arthur's strong, capable hands were on him, then, warm and gentle, moving him this way and that until he could no longer move at all, his arms behind his back and his legs fused together, all of him held down firm against Arthur's bed.

"Eames," Arthur's hand came to rest against the small of Eames' back after he fastened the last knot.

"What is it," Eames mumbled.

"Do you want me to stay, or should I go?" Arthur's hand stroked over Eames' back.

"Whatever you want," Eames responded blearily.

"Alright. I'll just be over in the corner. Tell me if you need anything or if you want to get up."

"Ok."

Arthur petted Eames once more before retreating, the bed bouncing back into shape as Arthur got off. Eames shut his eyes and listened to Arthur move around the room for a minute before settling down with a book, judging by the sound of turning pages.

Eames squirmed against the ropes, but they were solid, not even beginning to allow movement. It was typical of Arthur's work. Arthur turned another page in his book, and then there was silence.

Suddenly, Eames was alone, nowhere else to run to, and nowhere else to hide. It was just him and the strange, invading presence of the forge trying to force itself somewhere it neither belonged nor fit. There was nothing for it but to drive it away unless he wanted to go mad again. It was such a daunting task when Eames felt so small and terrified.

–

Sometime later, Arthur was back on the bed, stroking his fingers through Eames' hair, making soothing sounds.

"A-Arthur?" Eames whispered, terrified of something that had faded out of his memory.

"I'm right here, Eames," Arthur said softly, "what's wrong?"

"I don't- I don't know," Eames whined more than he spoke.

"Hey, hey, you're all right, Eames, it's ok. I've got you. You're all right."

Eames whimpered and canted his head towards Arthur's hand before falling silent, shivering within the ropes.

"Do you want to get up?" Arthur asked, scratching his fingernails over Eames' scalp.

Eames nearly blurted out yes, but he bit his tongue before he could betray himself. "No, no, I've- I've got to- no, no, no..."

"Alright, alright, shh, it's ok, shh," Arthur soothed, "I've got you."

Eames gulped in a shuddering breath and quieted. Arthur sat down against the headboard and rested his hand on Eames' head.

"Is it alright if I stay here?" Arthur asked.

"...yeah," Eames replied, breathy.

Arthur found his place in his book and began reading again, stroking Eames' hair absently.

Eames felt so much safer after that. Arthur wouldn't let him loose himself under the onslaught of that awful invasion. Arthur trusted Eames to have his back, Eames and nearly no one else. Eames could do this. Arthur had him.

Eames managed to throw off the influence of the forge after some indistinct period of time. He blinked his eyes open, feeling content wrapped in Arthur's ropes and under Arthur's hand. Eames shifted just to feel the ropes hold him, and Arthur's fingers scratched reassuringly against his scalp. Eames would have to get himself some medication first thing tomorrow. Tonight if possible, though he couldn't imagine it would be. People needed prescriptions for that sort of medicine, and it would be very unlikely that Eames could make a half-way decent forgery for quite a few hours yet.

Arthur leaned forwards, running his hand lightly down Eames' back until he reached Eames' hands. He squeezed Eames' fingers lightly, checking the blood flow. Eames squeezed back.

"You back, Eames?" Arthur asked quietly, leaning over to look at Eames' face.

Eames hummed and smiled up at Arthur. Arthur grinned back.

"Can I untie you yet?" Arthur stroked Eames' shoulder.

"Mm, yeah, I suppose," Eames' voice was blurry.

Arthur grinned again. "Do you want me to untie you? I could probably leave you for another ten or twenty minutes if you wanted."

"Hmm," Eames' eyes fluttered closed while he thought about it. "I should probably get up now. Start getting back to normal sooner than later, yeah?"

"Alright." Eames felt Arthur move back and begin to work the knots loose. He didn't bother to open his eyes again.

Eames flopped boneless where Arthur laid him after freeing him from the rope and watched Arthur neatly coil the rope through half-lidded eyes.

Arthur set the coils on the nightstand when he was finished, then sat down next to Eames' sprawled form.

"You need some help getting up, or do you want to just lay there for a while." Arthur stroked his hand down Eames' back.

"I need some help."

"Alrighty, then." Arthur rolled Eames onto his back and dragged him to the edge of the bed before pulling him gently to his feet.

"Thanks, darling," Eames grinned and enveloped Arthur in a sloppy hug.

"There you are," Arthur said fondly, hugging Eames firmly. "I was beginning to worry about you."

"Was I terribly obvious?" Eames pulled back enough to be able to look Arthur in the face, crinkling his nose ruefully.

"To me, but I can't imagine anyone else noticed anything."

"What was it?"

"You stopped touching me, and then you stopped teasing, and then you'd gotten so timid in the last day or two."

"Well, I am sorry for worrying you, but I'll be fine, now. I just need to forge a prescription and get to a pharmacy sometime tomorrow for insurance against relapse." Eames dropped his head to Arthur's shoulder and rested his weight against Arthur's slight frame.

"Good to know," Arthur buried his fingers in Eames' hair once more. "Do you need anything?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"You do this a lot, don't you."

"What, tie up my friends so that they can overcome their multiple personality disorder?"

"No," Eames grinned against Arthur's neck. "Tie people up and then take care of them after. Though you probably fuck them between."

"I have done it some. Though there is not always rope and there is not always fucking, either."

"Really?"

"Really. Rope is by no means the extent of my kinks, and sometimes I just want to be a dom without having to fuck some stranger."

"Always wanted to try BDSM, and here I've gone and done it without even knowing."

Arthur snorted into Eames' hair. "I wouldn't call that BDSM, seeing as we only did bondage."

"Oh come off it. Let's just go back to the aftercare. I'm thirsty."

"Alright. Come on, then." Arthur dragged Eames to the counter along the front half-wall. Arthur propped Eames against the counter while he filled a plastic cup with water. "Can you hold it?" Arthur held the cup out to Eames.

Eames frowned at it for a moment. "Probably so." He took it from Arthur and almost dropped it, catching it with his other hand. "Got it," he grinned at Arthur, holding the cup with two hands as he sipped from it.

Arthur smirked and ruffled Eames' hair. Eames batted his hand away, managing to maintain his balance and his grip on his cup.

"What do you want to do about dinner?" Arthur asked.

Eames blinked. "What time is it?"

"It's about six-thirty now. You seemed like you were doing just fine, so I left you longer than three hours. Hopefully I didn't overstep my boundaries there. You were very adamant about staying bound at two and a half hours."

"Oh no, that was very good of you. It's much harder if I can't get everything out at once."

"Well, good. Are you hungry at all?"

"Um, not in particular, though perhaps in a moment when I've come down a bit more. I do have to pee, though."

"Can you do that yourself or do you need me to come undo your pants for you?" Arthur smirked.

"I am quite confident in my ability to unbutton my trousers, thanks. Although if that's another of your kinks, don't let me stop you enjoying yourself."

"Give that to me," Arthur laughed, pointing to Eames' cup. "Off you go," he patted Eames' arse, "neither watersports nor ageplay are for me."

"Narrowing the field, then," Eames began to totter around the corner, stumbling into the wall before he quite made it.

"Are you quite sure of your ability to walk, though?"

"That I am not. If you hear a great crash, come in and rescue me," Eames called behind him as he made it to the bathroom.

"Will do!"

Eames shut the door and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. He smiled. It was so good to be alone in his head again, no one else trying to force their way through his skin.

He managed to make it through the bathroom without incident and ventured back into Arthur's room, walking more steadily with every minute.

"You hungry yet?" Arthur asked putting down the cup, which he had been drinking from.

"Um, no, not really."

"Well, I am starving. Can I go get something and bring you something back for when you do get hungry?"

"As long as I can come with you."

"You think you can walk well enough?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright, let's go, then. I'll buy us a cab."

"You're buying everything," Eames said accusingly.

"Yeah, I'm filthy rich."

"I suppose you are."

"Do you want to get a coat?" Arthur asked as he walked out the door, holding it for Eames. "It's getting a bit chilly for short sleeves."

Eames frowned down at his short-sleeved button-up. "Yeah, probably so."

Arthur loaded Eames, plus jacket, into a cab, climbing in behind him. "What do you want?"

"I don't know. Does it have to be carry-out?"

"No, not if you're up for eat-in."

"Take us somewhere nice, then," Eames slumped back into his seat.

Arthur raised an eyebrow down at his hoodie and jeans. "It will have to be somewhere I can get in like this. You looking for steak or what?"

"Job-Arthur would be so ashamed. Steak is good, yeah."

Arthur gave the driver a restaurant name and sat back next to Eames. "I don't have –" Arthur visibly bit his tongue to cut himself off, looking surprised at himself.

"I don't mind, darling," Eames said, "I know you're not tying to make me feel terrible about myself."

"I shouldn't say it, though," Arthur frowned. "Even though I don't mean to I still could."

"I have a thick skin when I am myself, Arthur, though it is good of you to think of me."

"I try. Though I fail a lot." Arthur frowned some more.

Eames smiled and squeezed Arthur's hand where it lay on the seat between them. "You do rather well, actually."

"Good to know," Arthur smiled and squeezed back.

The cab stopped a moment later, and they climbed out.

"It's raining, Arthur," Eames called as a fat drop splattered on his cheek, "make it stop."

"Unfortunately, I am not a rain god. Hurry up and get inside." Arthur grabbed Eames' hand and pulled him into a jog. Eames laughed as they shoved through the doors, and Arthur smiled back at him as a waitress led them to a table for two, not letting go of his hand.

There were times when Eames wondered if it was worth the trouble of fighting off all of the other people begging for space under his skin. It had been years since he had seriously considered giving into those thoughts. He wouldn't give up exactly what he had with Arthur for anything in the world.


End file.
